


Switchover

by Raynbowz



Series: An Interlude of Time [10]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raynbowz/pseuds/Raynbowz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jothan and the Ninth Doctor get into trouble when the TARDIS gets hijacked.  Will the Fourth Doctor be able to help?  Tenth in a series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switchover

Switchover

A Doctor Who story

 

The door to the TARDIS kitchen opened a crack, and Jothan peeked his head out impatiently.  “I told you, this room is off-limits!” he growled.

“Yes—but you still haven't told me why,” the Doctor replied, “and all I want is a sandwich!”

“I'll make you peanut butter and selunda jam and stick it outside the door,” Jothan relented, “but you still have to stay out.”  He closed the door with a decided bang.

“You've been rather secretive lately,” the Time Lord complained, “and demanding.  We've gone nowhere but shops and bazaars for five days, but you won't let me see any of the packets you get and you spend all your time in there by yourself.”

“Everything will explain itself pretty soon, but for now you'll just have to wait—I have a lot to do.”  The door opened again as a sandwich on a plate was thrust out.  There was a cut-up green apple next to the sandwich.  “Now go play in your workshop or something, I'm busy.”  

“Play?”  The Doctor was insulted.  “I'll have you know I do a lot of important—”  He was cut off as the door was shut again.  He stood for a moment with his mouth open, then stomped off with his lunch to the Console Room.  “Play, indeed!”

The Doctor was still sulking an hour later when there was a sound outside the Console Room and Jothan said, “Close your eyes a minute, and hold your hands out.”

“Now what?” the Time Lord questioned petulantly.  “Kicking me out of here as well?”

“Trust me, just close your eyes,” the medic said with a wheedling tone.

The Doctor sighed loudly, but obeyed.  He felt as something heavy was placed in his hands, but waited until he heard, “Now open them again and for pity's sake, don't drop it!  A lot of work went into this . . .”

The Doctor opened his eyes and stared at some sort of cake on a platter.  It had been wildly decorated, and a lit candle was sitting in the middle.  The words “Happy Birthday” were written out in  bright red icing.  “What is this?” he asked wonderingly.

“Happy Birthday!” Jothan announced.  “Now make your wish and blow out the candle before you get wax on your cake.”

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

“The TARDIS told me.  I've been working hard on communicating with her and so has she, enough that I got the message.”  Jothan grinned.  “Go on, blow it out!”

Gently the Doctor blew out the candle, then asked, “What flavor is it?”

“Well, since you _wouldn't_ go to Earth, I had to improvise quite a bit.  I used septymum eggs, balba milk, Pollavdrien flour, and yersid instead of sugar, but it should taste something like coconut.  We can eat it in the kitchen once I clean up the mess.  How does it feel to be 904?  Is this going to be your year?”

The Doctor was touched.  “Thank you . . . very much.  No-one's ever made me a cake for my birthday before.”

“I'm honored to be the first,” Jothan remarked solemnly.  “So where are we going for your special day?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that.  I had Astrala 5 in mind, but only if you agree.”

“What's to agree about?  It's your turn to pick.”  Jothan was confused.

“Astrala 5 isn't like other places we've been to.  Imagine if you will, the Kama Sutra, only on a planetary scale.  The Astralans have made sex into a high art form.  I thought it might be . . . educational.”

A smile crept over Jothan's face.  “Educational.  Right.  Are we staying long enough to get our PhD's?”

“I was planning on hanging around for a bit, yes . . .”  The Doctor smiled himself.  “So, I take it you consent?”

“Yes, it definitely sounds . . . enlightening.  I'm all for enlightenment . . .”

Suddenly, there was a loud “splot” noise, and the cake dropped to the ground.  The Doctor disappeared in a flash of orange light, and in his place another figure materialized.  The figure was tall and lanky, with brown curls and twinkling blue eyes.  It was wearing a brown coat with a long, multi-colored scarf wound around its neck.  The figure stepped forward into the wreck of the cake and asked brightly, “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Jothan backed away, staring at the place where the Doctor had been.  The creature took another step forward then slipped, falling headlong.  It looked at the remains of the cake, then said, “What was that, anyway?”

Jothan had retreated to the TARDIS doors by then, wondering how he was going to get away.  “Who are you, and how did you get here?  The TARDIS shields are supposed to prevent any beings from entering while . . .”

“I'm the Doctor, actually.”  The being looked around the Console Room with a critical eye.  At last it said, “Can't say I like the look of the place . . . not my style at all.  I always thought I had better taste than this . . .”

Jothan recovered himself somewhat, marching forward and protesting, “You aren't the Doctor!  The Doctor was holding that cake, which you've smashed by the way . . .”

“I _am_ the Doctor, and I can prove it.  Ask me anything you like.”  The figure put its hands in its pockets and started whistling.

Jothan thought furiously, then asked in a demanding tone, “Your dog, the one you had.  What was its name, and what breed was it?”

The whistling stopped.  “He was K-9, and he wasn't any breed—he was a robot.  I just left him on Gallifrey with Leela, actually.  Now who are you, may I ask?”

“I'm Jothan.  I'm the Doctor's . . . companion.  How old are you?”

“753,” the being answered promptly.

Jothan frowned.  “The Doctor just turned 904, and you ruined his birthday cake.  How did you get here anyway?  I thought something like this was impossible—the Doctor . . . well, _my_ Doctor said that . . .”

The strange man went toward a control panel of the TARDIS.  “I'm not sure exactly what happened.  I'll have to figure it out before I can find a way to reverse it.  So, you're from my future . . . what planet?”

“Earth,” Jothan answered.

“Ah, yes.  Spent a lot of time there, I have.  And where were you heading, Jothan?”

The medic blushed.  “We were going to . . . well . . . that's private!”

“It may tell us where to look, where I might be.  Sure you won't tell?”

“You wouldn't be going there, and I won't go with you,” Jothan insisted.  “The Doctor won't go there either, not alone.  Where were you going?”

“I was headed for Raspelled for a look at some Harnyas.  Haven't been there in ages.  Look, if we're going to fix this, I'm going to need your cooperation . . . now, tell me exactly what was going on.”

Jothan sighed.  He remembered some of what the Doctor had told him about his earlier selves, and recalled that he had destroyed the scarf the man was wearing early on during his time in the TARDIS.  Reluctantly he told himself that this certainly appeared to be an earlier version of the Doctor, and that he would have to be accommodating if they were going to have a chance at figuring out what was going on.  “Which incarnation of the Doctor are you?” he asked.

“Fourth.  You were just about to tell me where you were going.”

Jothan looked at his feet.  “It was the Doctor's . . . my Doctor's birthday.  I had made him a special cake, and we were going to spend some time on Astrala 5 together, then all of a sudden he vanished and you were here.”

The fourth Doctor was punching in buttons on a panel.  He looked up and asked suspiciously, “You were going to Astrala 5?  With me?”

“Not with _you_ —with _my_ Doctor!” Jothan protested.

“We're the same person.  With regeneration—”

“Oh, no.  He's from your future.  It's all fine and dandy for him to say he was you, but there's no way you can be saying you're him—that future hasn't been written yet.”  Jothan was very firm.

“I suppose you're right.  How intelligent of you . . . quite the flash of brilliance for a human.”  The other Doctor looked back down at the screen again.  He played with a few more controls, then said musingly, “Have I told you my name yet?”

Jothan blushed.  “He's going to.  For my next birthday, he said.”

“Well, if you're going with me to Astrala 5, I'd have to, wouldn't I?”  
“I keep telling you, you're _not_ him!  You act like you're the only Doctor there is.  You're an arrogant git, just like your other self, but that can wait.  If my Doctor had seen me before he met me, he would have mentioned it.  This wasn't supposed to happen!”  Jothan was angry now.

The other Doctor looked up again.  “I agree that this wasn't supposed to happen but it did, so now it's time to find out why.  Ah, yes!” he said, looking at the screen again.

“What have you found?” Jothan demanded.

“It's possible that we intersected each other going to our respective destinations.  That means it's just possible . . . did you say you were going to the past?”

Jothan frowned.  “He didn't say.  He usually doesn't unless I have to change clothing because we're going someplace special.”

The fourth Doctor looked up.  “It's remotely possible that for a split-second, my TARDIS and this TARDIS occupied the exact same space in the Vortex at the same exact time.  Then when they separated, I ended up here, and my other self ended up on my TARDIS.”

“How do we fix it?” the medic wanted to know.

“The answer's very easy—and very difficult.  We just get the two ships together at the same general place and the same time, then switch TARDIS-es.”

“But how do we tell him where to meet us?  He could be anywhere, any-when . . .”

“That's the difficult part.  It has to be a place both of us would know to go, somewhere I'd remember for 150 years.”  The other Doctor looked glum.

“I already told you, if it had happened he would have told me, and he didn't, so that's no good.  Isn't there a place you always end up sooner or later?  It's got to be somewhere on Earth; he told me he always goes back to Earth . . .”  Jothan was hopeful.

“You're assuming a lot.  Why couldn't I decide to go to Gallifrey?  That's just as likely a place as Earth . . . maybe more so.”

“My Doctor wouldn't go to Gallifrey, not ever.  You have to believe me, he wouldn't.”  Jothan was direct.  “The only logical place is Earth—now we just have to figure out a when.”

“You're forgetting about the 'where' part.  Earth is a large enough planet to make that a problem,” the Time Lord reminded the medic, frowning.

“No I'm not.  I have a TARDIS key, and the Doctor said he could find me anywhere as long as I had it with me.  That means if we can find the right time, we don't have to worry about the right space.”

“That could work,” the fourth Doctor agreed.  “Now for when.  When was it that you met me?”

“I didn't meet you, I met _him_!  And that won't work; we didn't meet on Earth, we met on Outpost 17.”  Jothan frowned, then looked up, hopeful.  “There's one time to try first—New Year's Eve from the year 2000.  We went to one party in each time zone, starting at the International Date Line and working our way backward.”

The fourth Doctor looked interested.  “So what do you suggest?”

Jothan was excited now.  “All we have to do is hit each time zone once, staying that full hour.  He'll find us with the key once we're at the right one.  It's not foolproof, but it's a place to start.”

“You're forgetting something.  There will already be at least one key transmitting a signal—the one you have already from that night.”

“That just means we need to be a far way away from our original location so he can find us,” Jothan said fervently.  “It's _got_ to work!”

“It's an idea, nothing more . . . not yet,” the other Doctor said.  “If it works, then . . .”  He looked over the TARDIS controls and started making adjustments.  “Do you have a place to suggest?”

Jothan thought a moment, then answered, “Antarctica.  It's far enough away from anywhere we went to make an impression, and we can work out the time variance easily, or should be able to.”

The TARDIS landed, and Jothan waited with the other Doctor.  In about ten minutes, there was a knocking at the door.  “That was quick!  I told you he'd find us.”  Jothan went to open the door.

“Wait, don't open—”

It was too late, Jothan had already opened the door.  Instead of the Doctor though, he found himself looking at three fat, reddish-orange creatures.  One pointed some sort of gun at Jothan and ordered harshly, “Back inside, and shut the door.”

Jothan obeyed silently.  The creatures looked around and one said, “Marvelous.  Better than our wildest dreams!”

The being with the weapon spoke.  “No time to ogle, Yantil.  We've got to get back to the emergency shelter and retrieve Pusdin.  Then we can get out of here.”

“What of the other Time-Craft signature we detected, Harzen?” the third creature asked.

“Leave it,” Harzen responded.  “We don't need two ships to get us off this rock, just one.  We'll take the shorter one with us while you guard this one, Yantil.  We'll be back with Pusdin shortly.  As for you my good man,” it said, pointing the weapon at the fourth Doctor,  “you will cooperate with us or your friend will freeze to death when we leave him on the surface.”  It waited to make sure the Time Lord did not move, then pointed the weapon at Jothan.  “Outside.  If you give me any trouble you will die here.”

Jothan had no choice.  He exited the TARDIS with the two beings, while the third remained behind.  It glanced at the TARDIS controls, saying to itself, “Absolutely amazing.  We are so lucky you happened by . . . this ship is so far beyond Madric technology, it's laughable.”

“So you're from Madria, are you?  How did you end up in this part of space?  I'm the Doctor, by the way.”  He reached into his pocket slowly, taking out a small bag.  “Care for a Jelly Baby?”

“Well, 'Doctor', we had no intentions of being here at all; our ship crashed and our pilot was injured.  We had lost all hope of rescue, when suddenly your craft appeared out of nowhere.  There is a signal of another Time-Craft on this planet, but it's too far for it to matter now.  Nice of you to offer us your assistance.” 

“I would be offering,” the fourth Doctor said quietly, “if you had asked for help.  As it is . . .”

Yantil smirked.  “Let's just say we wanted to . . . assure your cooperation.”  It was going to continue when suddenly there was a beeping noise coming from somewhere on the being.  It pulled out an instrument carefully and looked at it, then pushed some buttons on a device on its wrist while still maintaining its weapon.  “Harzen, it's Yantil.  There's a signal of a third Time Craft, ten meters from this one.  This planet's just hopping—”

A fuzzy voice came from the creature's wrist.  “I told you before Yantil, don't worry about any other Time Craft!  This planet may have millions of them, but your job is to make sure we don't lose the one we have!  We're packing up now, and should be back to you in ten minutes.  Hold position and make sure that creature doesn't do anything stupid.”

Just then, there was a scraping sound as the TARDIS door opened.  The creature wheeled around and fired, just missing the ninth Doctor by millimeters.  Then the fourth Doctor grabbed the creature from behind, while the other Doctor wrestled its weapon away.  “Where's Jothan?” the ninth Doctor asked, panting.

The fourth Doctor was still struggling with the creature.  “Two others took him out on the surface, and they plan to return.  Lend a hand, can't you?”

Together they managed to get the being under control after a long time, tying him up with some cord the fourth Doctor had in his pocket.  “You'll accomplish nothing with this!” it spat.  “My companions outnumber you, and your friend will die if you leave now.”

“We're not leaving,” the ninth Doctor promised, “but you're going to—”  He broke off as there was another knock at the door.

“That will be my associates, with your friend.  I'd strongly suggest you let them in if you want your companion alive,” Yantil challenged.

“Go,” the ninth Doctor said, passing the weapon over to the fourth Doctor.  “Hide this somewhere and find something to fight back with.  The secondary Console Room is where it's always been.”  He waited as his fourth self ran off, then looked at the creature that was tied up, trying to decide what to do next.

There was a loud banging from outside.  The creature snarled, “Open that door!  Don't be stupid; Harzen won't keep your friend alive if she doesn't have to.” 

The ninth Doctor waited a moment more, then went to the door and opened it.  The two creatures came in, carrying a third creature on a stretcher.  Jothan came in behind, staggering.

“What was the—who the hell are you?” Harzen asked.  “What happened, Yantil?”

“This one came along, and I wasn't prepared.  It had a key.  The other one's loose somewhere, with my weapon.”

The beings put down the stretcher.  The ninth Doctor rushed over to Jothan as the medic collapsed near the door.  “If you've killed my companion—”

“I have no interest in your companion,” Harzen shrugged.  “If he lives, he lives.  My associate, however, is in medical need and I am the one with the weapon.”

“You don't get it, do you?” the ninth Doctor blazed out.  “My companion is the medic here.  Without his help your associate will probably end up dead and there's nothing I can do about it, weapon or not.”  He pushed the TARDIS doors closed, then tried to rouse his friend.

The beings looked at one another doubtfully.  “Don't you have any medical knowledge?” the third creature asked worriedly.

The ninth Doctor did not answer.  He was still trying to get Jothan to respond.  Finally, the third creature took off its outer covering, revealing a slight, pale green humanoid with delicate antennae on either side of its head.  “It's heated; it may help.”  It tossed the coat to the Time Lord.

Harzen looked uncomfortable, then straightened up with a jerk.  It untied Yantil, then said briskly, “Get this ship moving.”  It then took off its coat and flung it at the ninth Doctor, revealing a female form under the coat.  “You better not be lying about your friend's abilities.  Our associate will survive several more hours without treatment, but after that he will succumb.  I expect that your companion can do something about it, and if he cannot he will end up dying anyway.”

The ninth Doctor said icily, “If you had asked for help, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.  As it is, I'm not sure Jothan will be helping anyone for a long time.”  He wrapped the medic in the coats and tried again to wake him.  

“How do you know we didn't ask?” Harzen demanded.

“One usually doesn't 'ask' when holding weapons.  Also, if you had asked, my friends would have been helping you when I came in rather than standing around.”  The ninth Doctor then turned his attention back to his friend.  “Jothan, it's me.  It's the Doctor.  You need to wake up now.”

“Why aren't we going yet, Yantil?” the female spat.

“This ship's far more complex than one of ours, Harzen.  I'm not even sure I can fly it, to tell the truth.  Pusdin might be able to figure out what to do once he's recovered, but . . .”

Harzen reached for her weapon, pointing it at the ninth Doctor.  “Move this craft.”

The Time Lord didn't even look up.  “If you expect any cooperation from me or any of those with me, you'll put that thing away and help me help my companion.  I don't particularly want your friend there to die on my ship, but he will if we don't do something for Jothan, and soon.”

The third being spoke up.  “We're getting nowhere, Harzen.  Pusdin needs help, we can't get this ship to work, and we've got these creatures angry with us.  Who knows what that other one is doing.  Maybe, if we all work together . . .”

“Don't question me!” the female screeched.  “We'll do this my way and come out ahead!  We'll have a powerful ship and . . .”

The third creature pulled out its weapon, leveling it at the head alien.  “We've tried it your way, and look where we are.  We have a ship we can't fly, a pilot we can't save, and enemies into the bargain.  If we had asked we'd already be on our way home, and Pusdin would be receiving care.  Yantil, tie her up.  Perhaps we can salvage something out of this fiasco.”

Yantil moved away from the TARDIS controls and stepped toward the lead alien, picking up the rope.  The third alien moved closer, weapon at the ready. 

“Touch me and I'll kill you both myself,” Harzen snarled, but to no avail.  She was tied up by her companions, who then pushed her aside into a corner.

“I am Tyrez,” the third alien told the ninth Doctor.  “What can I do to help?”

“Stay here with Jothan and try to get him to wake up.  I'm going to get something hot for him to drink.  Don't even try to fly the TARDIS; my friend's in the other Console Room and he will have established control by now.”  The Doctor stood quickly and hurried off.

He was back in a few minutes with a thermos in his hands.  He hurried over and sat Jothan up while Tyrez poured some of the thermos contents into a cup.  “Here, Jothan.  Here's something hot for you to drink, but to get it you have to wake up.”  He was rewarded with a groan, and he tried again.  “Jothan, wake up now.  I have something for you, something that will help.”

Blearily, the medic's eyes fluttered open.  “Doctor?” he asked faintly.

“Yes, it's me.  You have to drink this, and you have to wake up.  You have a patient . . .”  The ninth Doctor took the cup and held it to Jothan's lips.  “Drink first.”

“Must be the one on the stretcher.  When did you show up?” Jothan asked between swallows.

“Not long ago,” the ninth Doctor told him.  “Keep drinking; you need to get better and soon, or this chap won't make it.”

“I'm doing my best,” the medic protested, starting to shiver.  “Where's the other you?”

“Somewhere in the TARDIS, probably the other Console Room.  I told him to leave and find a way to fight back.”  The ninth Doctor poured out more of the hot drink.

“So we're still prisoners?”

“Not really,” the Time Lord told him.  “I think—” 

“You will all be prisoners or die at my hand if I get the chance!” an angry voice yelled.

“Quiet, Harzen.  We're finally getting somewhere, and no thanks to you,” Tyrez answered absently.  It then turned to the medic.  “Can you help our pilot?”

“I need to know what's wrong first,” Jothan said doubtfully, “and it's going to take a while for me to warm enough to be of any good.  We can always take him down to the Med Center and one of you can be my hands while I tell you what to do.  If that's not an option, you'll just have to wait an hour or so.”

“Does he have that long?” the being asked.

Jothan was shaking hard as his body tried to warm itself, and he spoke with chattering teeth.  “Again, I need to know what's wrong first, and what type of aliens you are.  The exam table has different settings for different race types, so with any luck you're in the system.  If not, it'll make everything that much harder.  Help me up,” he told the ninth Doctor.  “They can carry their friend down to the Med Center and hopefully I can get started, after a fashion.”

The Time Lord helped his companion to stand, and supported him as the two aliens went to the stretcher.  “What about Harzen?” one of them asked.

“What indeed?” the Time Lord asked.  He sat Jothan on the jump seat and went over to the bound alien, crouching down in front of her.  “If I untie you, will there be trouble?”  He backed away quickly as she tried to bite him.  “Well then, I suppose we're going to have to waste the time and effort to try and find a place for you.  Wait here, all of you, while I work this out.  Jothan, keep drinking; it'll warm you faster.”  

Taking Harzen by the arm, the ninth Doctor left the Console Room, going down various corridors and glancing around him for a suitable place to leave the creature.  He caught sight of the bathroom, and led her inside.  “I'm afraid I'll have to leave you tied, but I promise you that you'll be unharmed and returned to your home planet as soon as we can arrange it.  I wish this weren't necessary, I really do.”

“I will welcome the opportunity to kill you,” the alien snapped.  “You made my own crew abandon me in favor of—”  

“In favor of saving your pilot's life?  You could be grateful.”  The Time Lord sighed, then sat the alien on a bench near the shower and re-tied her.  “Just sit comfortably for now; someone will be back to get you soon.”  He finished his work, looked at Harzen with a disappointed glance, then left the room, locking the door behind him with the sonic screwdriver.

The ninth Doctor returned to the Console Room, and walked past Jothan to the TARDIS controls, pressing buttons and flipping switches.  “None of you touch anything here; I'm setting the controls to isomorphic, meaning you'll get a nasty shock if you try to re-adjust the settings.”  He helped Jothan to his feet, and told the aliens, “I'll lead the way.”

************

The fourth Doctor made his way through the corridors of the TARDIS as he returned from the secondary Console Room.  He had set the controls to isomorphic as well, so only himself or the ninth Doctor could get the TARDIS going.  He had tried to route the controls so that the spare Console Room was the only one that could fly the craft, but had decided the switchover would take too long.  He looked around, trying to figure out where he was; his other self seemed to have changed the layout of the TARDIS drastically.  After a time, he found himself in front of a large wooden door.  He stopped and smiled to himself.  “Perfect!  The workshop is just what I need.  Now, our alien friends said they were from Madria.  I wonder . . .”  

The Time Lord went inside and shut the door behind him, locking it with the sonic screwdriver.  He didn't have to worry about getting out; there was a secret door that connected the workshop with the laboratory.  He looked around him, checking out the arrangements and getting himself oriented; apparently his new self was more tidy about his workspace than he himself was.  Finding some boxes of old parts and broken items, he started to work.

************

Harzen fumed as she tried to get free.  She muttered angrily, “As soon as I get out of here, I'm going to roast them all alive!  How dare they . . .”  

She stopped, regaining her temper.  Getting out was the first order of business, but she would need a plan to get any further.  It was obvious that this ship was more complex and larger than any other she had ever seen, so just being free would not help.  She was also reconsidering killing everyone; satisfactory an outcome as that was, she would probably need some of the others to get home.  

Once they were back on her planet however she promised herself, “They will all pay, Yantil and Tyrez included.  How dare they side against me!  They'll be the first to go, then those worthless aliens, unless the one is able to save Pusdin.  In that case, I'll reward it by selling it as a slave, not that will have a much longer life as a slave than if I kill it.”  

She stopped looking ahead and focused on the here and now; nothing would be accomplished until she was free.  She tested the cords again.  They were tight, but not so tight that she couldn't put her hands together.  She was just able to reach the buttons of her wrist device, which had a small laser included for just such emergencies.  She burned out the power pack to get the ropes off but it was no matter; she could get it fixed easily at home.  Once she was free she searched the room for possible weapons.  At first she found none and cursed, then turned once again to the mirror on the back of the door.  It was very primitive, but it just might work.  She kicked it several times until it broke, then selected a medium-sized shard she could hold in her hand.  She tested it to make sure it was sharp enough, hissing as it sliced through her glove and cut a finger.  Next she tried the door; it was locked, of course.  She had expected nothing less.  She thought a bit, then remembered her utility belt.  She checked it, and was pleased to see it was well-stocked with many different supplies, some of which might help her escape the room.  She finally decided using the small explosive devices that were available would be the most effective, if not the most stealthy of options.  She was more concerned with getting out than getting out quietly, and the others might not be close enough to hear the sound anyway.  She debated whether to use the devices on the actual door or just the hinges, then decided on blowing out the hinges.  It would be somewhat quieter, and she wasn't quite sure how strong the door was anyway.  She set the charges in place, and readied the timers, then went into the little tiled chamber off to one side of the room.  She was lucky she had done so; the explosion was larger than she had anticipated, and the door was torn apart when the blast went off.  She waited in the small chamber to see if anyone came, then stepped toward the remains of the door.  Taking her time, she cautiously came out and headed down the hall the way she had come when the one alien had taken her to the room.

************

The aliens had taken their associate to the Medical Center, following the ninth Doctor and Jothan.  Once they were there, the medic took charge.  “Put him right on the exam table, and step back.  Doctor, I'll need you to hand me things.  You other two just find a place out of the way for now.”  He scanned the alien twice, then sighed in relief.  “The table's registering your species.”

“Is that a good thing?” Tyrez asked.  
“It's very good.  It means that the table can do most of the work, and I won't have to worry about making some stupid mistake and killing your friend.  He's actually not in as bad shape as he could be, though he does have a broken tibia and some lung damage.  There's a head injury as well, but the table can handle it while I set the leg.  Now, I need one of you to help.”

The two aliens looked at each other, then Yantil stepped forward.  “What do you need?”

“I need you to hold his thigh still while I set his leg.  Just keep it steady.”  Shivering, Jothan managed to gain some control of his hands and was able to set the bone with little difficulty.  “Doctor, now I need the bone stimulator.”

The Time Lord looked at the array of instruments in front of him, looking bewildered.  “Which one's that?”

“It's square, with all green buttons.”

The ninth Doctor examined the tools, then passed over one of them, hoping he had gotten it right.  He knew how to use the table after a fashion, but this was definitely not his area of expertise.  He just handed over items as they were needed and watched.  He felt proud as he observed his lover at work; the medic was quick and deft as he assisted the injured alien, in spite of his shaking.  He had never thought before of Jothan's life before the young man had traveled on the TARDIS; he had forgotten that the medic must have been very good at what he did.  Now that he was able to see his companion at his trade, he was amazed at the professional way Jothan did his life-saving work.

At last the medic turned away from his patient, satisfied.  “He should be fine now, though he probably won't wake for a while.  He'll need to stay here anyway, until the table finishes on the lung damage.  It's not substantial, so he should recover fully with no complications.”  He was about to say something else when they heard a loud noise from somewhere down the corridors.  “What would that be?” the medic asked worriedly.

“I'm not sure,” the Time Lord answered.  

“I'll go,” Tyrez replied crisply.  “If it's Harzen she's not likely to harm me, though she'll probably want to kill either of you on sight.”  He took his weapon and headed for the door.  “Which way did you take her?” he asked the Time Lord.  
“To the right, then down the corridor, one left, then left at the 'Y', and the third door on the right.  Are you sure—”

“I'll handle this,” Tyrez was firm.  “She'll respond better to me than to you, and he's too valuable,” he replied, pointing at Jothan.  “If I'm not back soon, you can give it your own try.”

He headed out of the room and headed in the direction the ninth Doctor had suggested.  As he came to the “Y”, he stopped for a moment to remember which way to go.  As he looked down the right passage, he heard a sound behind him.  He whirled just in time to have something shoved hard into his neck.  Stunned, he sat down right where he was, dropping his weapon.   He heard Harzen's voice saying, “What a disappointment, Tyrez.  I had hoped you'd just die, but since you appear to be fine you can lead me back to where you and your friends are hiding.  On your feet!” she ordered, scooping up the weapon.

Tyrez felt dizzy, but he obeyed.  He went back the way he had come, stumbling a little.  As they came to the door, he heard Harzen whisper softly as she came up right behind him, “Any signal, anything at all, and I will make _sure_ you die.  Now, don't do anything stupid.  Just walk in and act as a shield, and things will be fine.”

************

Harzen gave Tyrez a slight shove, but stayed close behind him as they entered the room.  She saw Yantil first, and fired reflexively, hitting him right in the chest.  She then hit the alien who was furthest away with a bolt, watching him crumple slowly.  She was then left with only one alien to deal with, and an injured Tyrez.  She motioned toward the alien with the weapon, then saw Pusdin lying on the table.  “Did you save him?” she asked flatly.

The alien stood facing her, not moving.  “Yes, though he'll have to stay where he is for now.”  He looked over at Tyrez then, asking sharply, “What have you done to him?  Tyrez, sit down where you are, and _don't_ move your head!”  He pushed past Harzen and knelt down in front of the stricken alien.  “Just stay still, Tyrez.”  He looked up angrily and spat, “Can't you do anything but kill?”

“Tyrez is the only one who was supposed to die; the others are only stunned.  Why didn't he die like he was supposed to, by the way?”

The alien pushed past her again, completely ignoring her weapon.  “Right now, whatever it is in his neck is acting as a cork, so he doesn't bleed to death.”  He reached for instruments quickly, then came back over.  “Lie down, Tyrez.  You're going to be all right; just stay absolutely still.”  He looked up at Harzen as if he was seeing her for the first time and asked bitterly, “Are you going to help, or just stand there?”

Harzen had to be impressed with the alien's bravery, but she had no problem not showing it.  She motioned with the weapon.  “I prefer to see you at work, though I think you're promising more than you can deliver,” she replied sweetly.  “If you _are_ able to save him, I might just find something good to do with you rather than sell you as a common slave.”

The alien turned his back to her as he began work on Tyrez.  She observed without a sound as the glass was removed and a pressure bandage put in place, somehow with almost no blood loss.  The alien then sealed the bandage in place, added another bandage, then sealed it in place on top of the first.  “There.  That should hold him until I can do a proper repair.  I can't replace any blood he might lose in the operation, so I don't dare do anything without the table.  Still, he should be fine as long as he doesn't move much.  Now, are you going to kill me, stun me, or do anything else nasty while we wait?”

“Wait for what?  You're going to fly me home.”  She motioned with the gun again.

“Oh, no I'm not.  I haven't a clue how to fly the TARDIS, and you've shot the one person who can.  So we can wait for people to wake up, unless you want to try yourself.”

“Not a bad idea,” Harzen replied.  “Let's go.”

The alien bent back down to Tyrez.  “You have to stay as still as you possibly can until your friend is awake, so just stay here and don't move.  You understand?”

“Yes,” Tyrez answered weakly.

The alien stood and started for the door.  Harzen followed behind at a respectful distance until they were in the control room again.  Once there, he sat down on a seat and folded his arms across his chest.  “Good luck with that,” he told her sullenly.

She walked around the six-sided console twice, regretting her decision to shoot so fast.  It would have been better to use Tyrez as a hostage rather than a shield; she was sure these pathetic aliens would have fallen for it.  She walked around again, looking for anything that might be familiar, and then gave up.  “Show me the control to—”

“Not a chance,” the alien answered sourly.  “ All I can do is open the door, and I'm not taking a chance on hitting the wrong button and killing us.  Flying the TARDIS is difficult enough for the Doctor, and he knows what he's doing.  If you want to leave though, I'm your man.”

For a moment Harzen stood indecisive, but then heard something from down the corridor.  She moved quickly to the alien, grasping it by the back of the neck and pulling it and herself behind the door.  She was surprised to see the first alien come into the room, the one Yantil said had run off.  It had some ball-shaped device in its hands, and did not seem to have the weapon it had taken from Yantil.    She stood still and waited for the alien to notice her with its friend.

The alien looked up after a moment or two and said brightly, “Hello!  I'm the Doctor.  You might want to put that away, really.”

Harzen pushed the short alien in front of her, the weapon in its back.  “I'm the one with the weapon, 'Doctor'.  I should think a stun in the back at this range might do some terrible damage to your friend, so I'd stay back if I were you.  What is that you have there?  Is it a bomb of some type?  I wouldn't advise detonating it . . .”

Cheerfully, the alien moved toward the console.  He then turned back to her and said, “All this violence, when all you had to do is ask for a lift.  It's quite sad, really . . .”

Harzen was beginning to lose patience.  “Put that thing down before I shoot your friend here.”

It complied, placing the globe on the console.  “Now will you put that away?”

“No.  You're going to fly us back to our home world, right now.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't do that.  The controls are probably booby-trapped . . . set up so I and my friend here can't touch them.  A fail-safe, you see . . .”

Harzen lost her temper.  “Show me which controls to activate, then!  One way or another, get this craft in motion at once!”

“That button there is what you want to start with,” the infuriating alien said helpfully.  “The red one on the side of the nearest control panel.  It will bring up the dimensional map.”

“What are you doing?” the other alien broke in.  “Why are you helping her—” 

“Hush, Jothan.  It's better to cooperate at this point . . .”

“But we're all going to end up—” 

“Silence, both of you!” Harzen roared.  She took a step toward the controls and found the indicated button.  Triumphantly, she pressed it . . .

************

“She won't wake for quite a while, I assure you . . .” the fourth Doctor said.

Tyrez kept his weapon trained on the unconscious Harzen.  “I'm not taking the chance.  You weren't stabbed in the throat by her.  What happened to her, anyway?”

The ninth Doctor looked up from the TARDIS controls.  “She must have touched something.  With the controls set to isomorphic, the TARDIS reacted and that is the result.  We're nearly to your home, by the way.  Where are the others?”

“Yantil's helping Pusdin; he can't put much weight on his leg even now, your medic said.  I don't know where your man got to; he just mumbled something about unfinished business and disappeared hours ago.”

“I suppose I'll have to go find him soon.  He's not doing well, not properly warmed even now.  I hope he didn't collapse somewhere . . .”

“I don't mind taking a look for him,” the fourth Doctor offered.  

“That's all right, it had better be me.  But first, what is this?”

“It's a limited-range ultrasonic emitter.  Would have disrupted their antenna senses without doing any damage.  But our friend here was eager to take a stab at flying the TARDIS on her own, so I didn't need to use it, thanks to what you did,” the fourth Doctor explained.

“The first rule of thumb when someone gains unauthorized entry to the TARDIS is to set controls to isomorphic, that way no one can fly her.  Standard practice.”  The ninth Doctor sounded pleased with himself.  “Usually, all you have to do is wait after that; they're always in such a hurry . . . I'm surprised you didn't do it yourself.”

The other Time Lord shrugged.  “I didn't get much of a chance, I'll remind you.  You showed up before I was able to put any plans into action.  By the way, speaking of plans, I wanted to ask you about Astrala 5.”

The ninth Doctor was suddenly studying the screen in front of him intently, but his ears turned bright red.  “Not now.  We've . . . company at the moment, and it's not their concern.  Not that it's yours either . . .”

“I was just curious . . . I haven't had _that_ type of . . . relationship since the children were grown.  Do you really think it's wise?”

The ninth Doctor was firm.  “This is not the time or place to discuss this.  Besides, it's none of your business.  I know what I'm doing . . .”

The fourth Doctor snorted.  “If this is your idea of proper TARDIS décor, I highly doubt it.”

“Look,” the ninth Doctor said hurriedly as the TARDIS came to a stop.  “You're back home, Tyrez, and here come your friends.  Will you need assistance?”

“I think we can manage on our own, Doctor.  Thank you so much.”  He swung the unconscious Harzen up on his back, following behind Yantil and Pusdin.  The TARDIS doors swung shut after them, leaving the two Doctors alone.

“Now, to get you back to your TARDIS,” the ninth Doctor said, busy at the controls.  “When are you, anyway?  When in the regeneration?”

“I just left Leela and K-9 on Gallifrey, which reminds me of something else I wanted to ask . . .”

The ninth Doctor threw up his hands.  “Why don't I tell you all the history-altering things I can, while we're on the subject of things you _shouldn't_ know!  I've probably changed quite enough already to cause some serious problems . . .”

“Now, now, don't get all anxious,” the fourth Doctor said.  “I'm quite sure I can handle a little information without botching up the fabric of Space-Time.  It's not like I know nothing . . . I'm only 150 years behind, I'll have you remember . . .”

“A lot can happen in 150 years.  Just keep that in mind.”

They would have continued arguing if Jothan hadn't walked in just then, backwards.  “Now this was a rush job, so . . .”  He turned around to reveal another birthday cake, this one with two candles.  “Now, the tricky part is to have you each blow out just your own candle.  Make a wish!”

The two Doctors moved toward the cake, each blowing at the same time.  The candles went out, and Jothan said brightly, “Now, let's sample some of this before something else happens.  I'm not about to make a _third_ one, you understand . . .”  He left the room, carefully carrying the dessert.

The two Doctors smiled at each other as they followed Jothan to the kitchen.

************Story to follow:  How Far Forgiveness  ************

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
